


The Beginning and the End

by elisamiao



Series: Le Vrai Où [1]
Category: Le Vrai Où
Genre: Break Up, But that can be beautiful too, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Framing Story, Heartache, Last Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisamiao/pseuds/elisamiao
Summary: A fictional account of the short Vogue film 'Le Vrai Où,' starring Wang Yibo and Zhou Xun. It is not RPF, there is no Xiao Zhan.(Edit: Guess this changed with the sequel, but this is just a retelling of the film with parts added without a follow-up originally planned.)This is the story of the Singer and the Bartender.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Zhou Xun (fictional characters)
Series: Le Vrai Où [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029885
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30





	The Beginning and the End

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE VOGUE SHORT FILM SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
> 
> This is a story I got in my head from the 9 minute short Vogue film, 'Le Vrai Où'. It's beautiful and lovely and vague enough that I thought it would be fun to write out the story I thought about after watching it. If you have not watched the film, please don't read! I don't want anyone to be spoiled for the film.

The musicians strummed their instruments at the front of the bar, with a man wearing sunglasses crooning “Stars up high…” coolly into the microphone. As she sat there, her soft fingers playing with a white tuberose while trying to steady her rapidly beating heart with steady breaths, the Singer remembered moments like this in the past. She was perched in her favorite spot in the bar, a place she sat years ago that felt only a matter of minutes now, watching the handsome Bartender’s fluid movements stealthily from afar back then even as the Singer did tonight, as he crafted drinks for people from all over the world in this strange little place that had warmed her heart like a home, even as she tried not to think of all the places she left behind.

As she tapped her fingers, the Singer remembered these last four years with him as a steadfast part of her life, a light left on in a dark road, a warm place by the fire when she had felt nothing but cold for years.

It hadn’t been the way the Bartender looked at her with those dark eyes that made her finally open her heart to the younger man, but the tremble in his long fingers when he touched her tenderly, the way his hands explored her with a reverence that made her feel like a goddess. To him, she was a goddess that was worthy of worship, instead of how she was treated by so many of the patrons she had met in bars in various countries that promised her the stars as they danced in the moonlight but were gone by the first rays of morning, their blank eyes sliding off of her in their next visit to the bar as she sang even as they had been riveted to her the time before.

The Bartender’s strong hands were sure as he stabbed the ice under the light of a yellow neon sign, his gaze focused on shaking the drinks in a steady rhythm that drew the eye of everyone around. The Singer idly placed the tuberose in her hair, concentrating on the soft feel of the petals against her fingers as she pushed it in rather than focusing on the coldness in her stomach. And as the Singer took a second steady breath and stood up slowly to walk towards the sound of ice shattering, she wondered when exactly he had become such a large part of her life.

“She’s adorable,” the Singer said to the Bartender with a sly smile, eying the new but familiar napkin with red numbers scrawled on it.

She had watched earlier, bemused, as the girl who came by several times a week once again wrote her number in front of him, leaving it as if this time would be different than all the last, even as he passed her the carefully crafted drink with a charming smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

The Bartender shot the Singer a hint of his smile, eyes soft, turning and capping the top of a red liqueur that he had just added to a new drink, magenta swimming on top of a cool yellow base.

“She comes here for you every week,” she commented, still smiling brightly even as the Bartender didn’t rise to the bait, instead responding in his deep voice, “Most people here all come for you,” wiping down the remnants of his work from the bar with a cloth and setting the drink in front of her with a brilliant smile, lights dancing in his eyes.

The Singer couldn’t take her eyes off of him, the Bartender a slender, handsome young man in a black vest and crisp white shirt with cuffs rolled up his arms, double silver piercings shining on his ear through carefully tousled dark hair, the bottles he poured all night lined in a row and lit up behind him.

“It’s been so long, I can’t even remember what it’s like to do other things,” she admitted, leaning over the glossy bar but not moving toward the proffered drink.

“You are always so beautiful, especially when you are on the stage,” he said seriously, gaze so sincere she was almost pushed back by the intensity of it, sitting down on the barstool but giving him a small smile for his words even as she closed her eyes and let out a whisper of a laugh.

“Is this how you look at me every night?” the Singer said breezily, trying to lighten the heavy mood, turning to look at the performers on stage. “Don’t you get bored listening to the same songs over and over again?” she asked, shooting him a playful look.

“As long as it’s you up there, I will never get tired of it,“ the Bartender responded firmly with unwavering eyes, no attempts to hide his adoration.

“Oh,” he said with a shy smile, “The offer has arrived.” The Bartender reached behind the bar to retrieve a sealed envelope covered in stamps that he turned to lay directly in front of her as an offering next to the untouched drink.

“That’s fast,” the Singer said, eyes widening, looking at the label of “NUS” as she held the thick weighted packet extending him the chances he’d been fighting for all his life. “Congratulations, you are one step closer to your dream,” she said with a forced smile, looking down and steadying her hands.

“What about you? Have you decided?” the Bartender asked expectantly, trying to keep his voice steady even as he wore his heart on his sleeve. The Singer stared at him, trying to force herself to return his gaze, but when all she could see was the hope shining through his eyes, looking down at her lap as if to gather her thoughts while the band on stage took a break.

After their much-deserved break, the band returned to their instruments and the Singer joined them. Despite blushing earlier under the Bartender’s heavy gaze, the Singer knew she looked amazing under the stage lights, with her outfit a mix of translucent and opaque black fabric showing glimpses of her skin as if under a black film as she moved her slim body behind the microphone with an elegant grace, just as she had on so many stages before.

“Good evening,” the Singer said warmly to her audience as they clapped for her under the bright lights she loved, under which her Bartender found her so beautiful.

“Tonight, I’d like to sing an old song. I’ve sung this song many times here, but I’ve got a different version for you tonight,” she said, voice filled with emotion, swaying into the microphone and looking out into the smiling eyes of strangers hanging off of her words. “Thank you for being my audience over the years.”

The Bartender moved slowly, as always, drawn in by her melodic voice.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be leaving,” the Singer told the audience gently, as if they were dear friends, and the Bartender’s eyes widened at her words as he turned to watch her singing from his spot at the bar. “This song is for me and also for the future you.”

He watched her, hanging off every note that left her lips, focusing on her under the bright lights on stage as if they were the only two people in the room.

The band played, the music swelled, and the Singer and the Bartender's eyes locked across the room with each other as she sang.

_“The southern breeze brings coolness,_

_The nightingale crows and sings,_

_The flowers under the moon fall asleep and dream_

_But the tuberoses still blossom_

_I love the boundless night_

_And the nightingale singing”_

As she sang, her heart felt tight, and the Singer remembered the Bartender’s look a few minutes ago before she came out on stage, as he asked her doggedly with hope in his voice despite the fear lurking in his eyes, “What about you? Have you decided?” 

She leaned forward and said gently, “I will visit you.”

The Bartender blinked, what she was saying taking excruciating seconds to wash over him until the Singer finally saw his expression change as the words were absorbed. She watched the emotions flash across his face as it fell, his eyes flashing with hurt, his mouth opening to try to argue or persuade her to change her mind but in a moment closing again as he held himself still with an effort that looked painful, his expression finally settling in resigned acceptance, just as the Bartender had accepted everything the Singer had told him throughout the years, taking her exactly as she was, loving her for exactly who she was, his heart laid completely bare in front of her with painful sincerity.

“Do you know the Kármán line?” the Singer asked him softly, tapping the heavy envelope against her small chin. “It’s the line in between the earth’s atmosphere and outer space.” She set the important packet down and lifted the untouched drink the Bartender had made her only minutes and what felt to him like a lifetime ago, a lifetime where he went to sleep with his arms around her at night, where he woke up next to her warmth every morning, holding on to her as tight as he could even though he knew in the back of his mind that he would never be lucky enough to keep her.

“It’s just like this cocktail you made,” the Singer gestured with it as the Bartender stared at the colorful drink as if he had never seen it before, eyes curious despite his tumultuous feelings whirling inside. 

“Clearly divided,” she continued, tapping the glass to point out the separated colors in the cup with her dark manicured fingernail, the bright red and yellow liquids layered together but not mixing.

The Singer took a steady sip while staring into his dark eyes, the cool liquid swirling slowly back and forth in her mouth as she tasted it, mixing the contrasting yet complementary flavors together to savor them, finally swallowing with pleasure and offering the shining container to the Bartender with a genuine and kind smile.

The Bartender looked at the Singer for a long moment, then took the drink, a small tremor in his hands barely noticeable as he lifted the glass, her heart pounding as she watched him try to breathe through feeling his heart break in two, taking a long, slow sip, looking directly at her with eyes full of both love and sadness, tasting the sweetness against his lips and the bitter burn of the alcohol down his throat, eyes watering. The Bartender held up the drink between them in his long fingers as they stared at it and then each other, saying goodbye without any words.

_“Tuberose, I sing for you,_

_Tuberose, I think of you.”_

As the Singer sang goodbye to the Bartender from the stage, she remembered the Beginning. She first saw his startled brown eyes open wide as the two accidentally pushed into each other through the server door. He had been returning from the stockroom and nodded at her, ducking his head as he awkwardly hurried past her back to the bar.

The Bartender had looked for the beautiful woman in white later, introducing himself shyly as he discovered to his delight that she was the new lounge singer. He had started as lead bartender on his 20th birthday only 2 weeks earlier, but had worked as bar staff since he was 19 and in the kitchens three years prior. The bar staff was a family of mismatched orphans, both figuratively and real, and he considered them all his family. The Singer found herself accepted by them over the years, even as she refused to commit for more than a season in the future, signing a new contract for the season every few months, despite her growing popularity and the increasing amount of regulars every night when she sang.

After the first week of glances and hesitant small talk, the Bartender had made her a pastis on the house as “thanks for a beautiful song”, and the Singer had taken a sip and then held it out for him to drink with her, saying that it was her way to say “thank you for the drink”, with a sweet smile, their fingers touching softly over the glass, cheeks flushed.

Over time, regulars learned to avoid trying to get a shaken drink during the Singer’s songs as the Bartender refused to interrupt her, rushing to place orders in between songs so they would have the Bartender’s concentration for anything complicated or just ordering bottled drinks quickly and quietly if they were impatient so as to avoid his stern judgement at their interruption. There were no complaints, though, because the Singer would fill the whole bar with light and sweet music from her honeyed voice, even as the Bartender looked at her as if she were only singing to him.

_“Ah-ah-ah,_

_I sing for you,_

_I think of you.”_

A few months into her time there, the Singer had stayed late one night, and after hesitating for a moment at the door, turned back to the Bartender and asked if he’d like company closing up, offering to lend a hand as he worked through his closing list. He turned down her help but accepted her company, slowly opening up to her over the nights as it became a habit. He would make one drink before they’d leave, sharing it sip by sip.

The Singer would keep him company every night as he closed, chattering in her melodic voice with him about everything and nothing at all, occasionally practicing a new song on stage with the Bartender as her devoted audience, and sometimes when he fell asleep at night in his lonely apartment, he’d close his eyes and imagine he could hear her voice lulling him to sleep.

It was a year less two weeks from that first awed look in the staff doorway when the Bartender finally managed to get around her walls enough to accept him into her body if not her heart. They had both been working, and when she discovered it was his 21st birthday, the Singer dedicated his favorite song of hers “to the birthday boy, my favorite bartender and dear friend,” from the stage.

“A birthday present is a special gift that you get only once, not every day,” the Singer told him firmly, eyes bright as she danced slowly with the Bartender in the dim light of the closed bar that night, finally accepting the invitation to dance he’d been offering her for months after he suggested it could be her birthday gift to him. She’d insisted after the dance that they have a drink together to toast his health, and he poured one drink, both of them smiling at each other as the Singer took a deep sip and then held the drink out for the Bartender to have the second sip.

With lingering glances and soft smiles under the few remaining lights in the mostly dark bar, the Bartender made a second drink when the first was done and the Singer asked him about his dreams. He told her what he had never told anyone- that he dreamed of becoming an engineer, even though he couldn’t afford college. She smiled broadly, saying that it was the best idea to travel, to learn, to grow and become who he was meant to be, just as she had many years ago.

They had never discussed the wide age gap between them. The Singer was clearly older than he was, but the young Bartender appreciated that she had always treated him as a peer, as an adult, even as he felt like a child compared to her as she told him stories from her experiences all over the world. But that was what made the Singer who she was, never staying tied to one place, discovering who she was and finding new homes anywhere she roamed, and he would never want to change that even as the Bartender worried that she wouldn't stay.

The Singer told the Bartender that she believed in him and that he could do anything he wanted to do. She suggested scholarships, encouraging him to attend a local college and work towards the requirements to apply to the university of his dreams, the National University of Singapore.

The Bartender looked at her intently, “You really think I can do anything I want to do?”

The Singer nodded confidently, her eyes widening as he took her chin in his fingers, slowly drawing her face towards his with a soft pull and pausing with their lips just an inch apart, breath hot on her lips as he exhaled.

“Can I kiss you?” the Bartender asked gently, and she nodded, eyes sparkling, moving towards him for the kiss and meeting him with a smile on her lips.

The Bartender had been kissed before but not like this, and in the months that followed, as the kisses grew to evenings together, then mornings together, he knew he had fallen completely for the Singer, body and soul. She had more of a sense of self than anyone he had ever met, so sure of her needs and so confident as she told him exactly what she wanted, and he wanted to grow in the sunlight of her smile, be with her every moment of every day.

The Singer kept checking in with the Bartender about his progress towards his dream, kept encouraging him to sign up for classes and, when he had met the requirements to apply two years later, introduced him to a friend of hers to help with his applications and walk him through the maze of assistantships and how the Bartender could pay for the costs of academia with what he had saved over the years.

_“I love the boundless night,_

_And the nightingale singing._

_I love the flowery dreams,_

_Embracing tuberoses,_

_And kissing tuberoses.”_

The Bartender realized that he had finally made his way into her heart when he woke up once to find the Singer looking down at him, realizing he had fallen asleep on the bar after another long day of classes followed by work. The Singer’s eyes were soft as they stared at him, and she looked like an angel in the candlelight. He reached up to pull her tightly against him, stealing her breath as the Bartender tried to show her how much he felt for the Singer the only way he knew how, through genuine actions since he always seemed to stumble over charming words.

Finally, after years of working towards his goals, the Bartender clicked the final button to submit the application with the Singer's delicate hands squeezed tightly on his shoulders, and they both took a deep breath. He turned to look up at the Singer, grasping her small hands in his and said in a voice tinged with fierce desperation, “Come with me.”

The Singer started to speak and the Bartender shook his head, stopping her. “You want to travel, you want to be free. I know you won’t stay here much longer. Travel with me, be free with me. Come with me now and we can go anywhere from there, however you want to be, just be with me.”

He shook his head again when she would have said something, her eyes shining, and the Bartender said rapidly, “No, please, don’t say no. Just think about it. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere yet. You still have weeks until the end of the season. Don’t say anything yet.” And the Singer sighed and nodded, giving him a sweet smile and promising she’d think about it.

Weeks later, on that final night, as the Singer sang farewell to the Bartender as he stood there, drinking her in with his dark eyes as she looked back at him with a fond smile, she prayed to all of the gods the Singer no longer believed in, swearing to them with her voice, with her breath, that this special man should achieve the dreams the Bartender had worked so hard for, and, she thought with a pang in her heart, he should do it all for himself. He hadn't even opened the acceptance letter from the National University of Singapore, waiting to give it to her as if it were her dream and not his.

With that final action, she knew she had made the right choice accepting a job in Australia for the next year, already having turned in her notice at the bar a few weeks ago but waiting to announce her departure tonight to him from the stage, since the Bartender wouldn't let her tell him back when he'd submitted his application. The Singer wanted him to be free to become the man he would grow to be, without her strong influence to shape him just as the Singer had resisted anyone else’s influence shaping who she was for her entire life.

The Singer had never lied to the Bartender. Before their first night together, she had kissed him sweetly before making sure he understood she couldn’t give him forever, she could only give him right now, and the Bartender had accepted it too quickly, too easily, them both knowing he would accept anything she was willing to offer. And the Singer had sighed with a sad smile before kissing him again softly but thoroughly, promising herself that she’d be strong enough for the both of them when her time at the bar ended, and reminding the Bartender throughout the years they had together that she wasn’t able to stay forever, even as he interwove himself more in her life, more in her heart.

_“Tuberose, I sing for you,_

_Tuberose, I think of you,_

_Ah-ah-ah,_

_I sing for you,_

_I think of you.”_

The Singer let out all of her love and feelings for the Bartender in the most authentic way she knew how, through her voice. The song ended and the Singer left the stage, shaking hands with the strangers, their eyes bright with tears at her goodbyes, wishing her well in her future endeavors.

As the Singer said goodbye to the Bartender that night with only her eyes, having already said goodbye with her body the night before, and, he realized now, with her lips as they shared their last drink, he drank in what he knew would be his final glimpse of her beautiful face; the woman who was too amazing for him not to love her and too wild and free for him to try to make her stay.

The Bartender’s eyes shone brightly as the Singer paused in the doorway with her hand on the bar of the door and then firmly pushed through without a backwards glance, bell ringing as the door closed behind her, and the Bartender closed his eyes, finally letting himself feel the sharp pain of his heartbreak. He took a deep breath, opening the thick letter to read it, dropping the tuberose she had left on the bar into the remnants of their shared drink and walking away to turn in his notice to the manager.

At the End, as the Singer walked away from the bar that had been her home these last few years, she felt her heart break as well, but it had been broken before, and it would be broken again. That was life, and as long as she was on this planet, she wanted to keep feeling, keep loving, keep breathing.

As final glimpses of lovers go, watching the beautiful Bartender from the stage as she sang only to him was sweeter than most the Singer had ever had, and the memory of his glittering dark eyes staring into hers was one that kept her warm as she remembered it as the years passed on cold nights when she felt alone. The Singer thought often about the shy man working towards his dreams in another country, growing into the person he was meant to be, and wished the Bartender all the joy and love in the world as she sang to strangers in another lounge, on another stage, in another country and remembered her love for him.

_“The southern breeze brings coolness,_

_The nightingale crows and sings,_

_The flowers under the moon fall asleep and dream,_

_But the tuberoses still blossom._

_I love the boundless night_

_And the nightingale singing..."_

__

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I left this in reply to a reader comment but in case it helps others to provide what I see as the natural epilogue...
> 
> While I was going for the bittersweet vibe of the ending of a relationship, which is what I got from the film, I truly am writing these characters with the idea that they are both better and happier from having loved each other. This isn't the story of love's sacrifice. 
> 
> We're seeing the ending of something beautiful, just like the seasons changing to winter, to allow for new growth. The Singer is not pining after the Bartender, but remembering him like all of her past loves, fondly and with affection. She was never going to stay, that wasn't who she was, but she also didn't hold herself back from love just because she knew it would always be for a limited time. 
> 
> And the Bartender is better for having known her and loved her and he knows this. It helps his heart be less heavy even as it's broken, and like any love, especially for a 24 year old (I know I made him a year older than Yibo but I wanted to give them more years together,) his heart mends and is stronger and better for having loved her. She helped him make the leap to follow his dreams that he might not have otherwise, and she taught him so much about love and himself that he could never feel anything but gratitude for having had her in his life, even if it was a short time. I don't see this story as either of them suffering or pining, but just an ending before a new beginning, and the exploring of the emotions that happen in between.
> 
> EDIT 2: A commenter mentioned tuberose was basically the Singer saying love, and I think that's true but would add that I think the flower imagery of this love between the Singer and Bartender is purposefully ephemeral with the tuberose symbolism. Flowers are beautiful but they have a limited lifespan, only blooming during a season, dying quickly when they're cut (removed from their natural state) and I think that is perfect symbolism for their ephemeral romance, as well as for the Singer who wouldn't flourish in a vase but needed to be free. OK, maybe that last part about the vase is a stretch but clearly I have many feelings and thoughts about this. 😅 hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> ORIGINAL NOTE:  
> If you like this, hope you leave a comment or kudos because I'm not sure that this is any good but I just had to write it down. And again, just my interpretation after watching the film a few times and not being able to get the two of them out of my head. I've been on both sides, and it's sweet and lovely and heartbreaking and terrible and life keeps going and love happens again even if it's with someone new, and I think the film did a great job of reminding me of all those feelings.
> 
> My other fics thus far are all very explicit but fluffy Yizhan RPF, so please don't check out my other stuff if that isn't your thing. I'd hate for anyone to be fooled by this story of two lovers with a short shelf life who left a permanent mark on each others' lives and be shocked after starting to read the rest of my fiction.


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